


It takes all kinds

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five different times and types of sex Bruce and Dick have had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It takes all kinds

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like the universe needed some fresh OTP fic from me. Everything's consensual and everyone's over 18. (Also I obviously fudge canon to keep Bruce "dead" for a little longer than he was in canon.)

i. rough sex

ii. sex as a distraction  


iii. "missed you" sex  


iv. playful sex  


v. quickie  


* 

** i. rough sex **

Bruce is angry, but he isn't angry with Dick.

He's pissed off at the world: at the patrol that seemed like it'd never end and the cops that wouldn't get out of his way. Coming back to the cave in the early hours of the morning isn't his first choice, but he doesn't have many options left to him. By the time the car pulls up in the underground garage section of his cavernous headquarters, Bruce is in a downright _foul_ mood and Dick is the lucky bastard charged with redirecting his lover's temper. 

"If you frown any harder your face'll stick like that," Dick says as he watches Bruce stomp around the cave as though the ground itself has offended him. Crossing his arms over his chest, Dick settles back against one of the tables in the cave currently not in use for one experiment or another. "Why don't you take a shower, Bruce? Cooling down a little can't hurt?"

Bruce continues to pace around the floor, walking in wide circles around the room as though he'll burn off his anger that way. Still in everything except for the cowl, Bruce's face looks pale and slightly out of place against the starkness of the suit despite how often Dick sees him in it sans cowl. The only thing that doesn't look out of place is the look of thunderous anger on Bruce's face from a night spent chasing intangible leads and ducking from a police force that does everything it can to get in the way of their mission.

"I don't want to cool down. I don't want to take a shower," Bruce growls at last. He whips his head around to pin Dick with a sharp glare and when Dick merely raises one eyebrow in response, starts to head towards the other man. "I want to get back out on the streets and find something that I can write up in my report for the night. A shower isn't going to do anything."

Dick snorts, pushing the fingers of one hand through his hair, wincing for the way sweat leaves his hair feeling lank as it sticks to his gauntlet. When Bruce comes close enough that Dick can clearly see the stormy darkness of the other man's narrowed eyes, Dick holds out a hand to halt him in his tracks. 

"You might not want a shower," Dick says in a careful tone. "But we both need one. Come on, Bruce. Maybe patrol was a bit of a lost cause, but stomping around here and scaring the bats isn't going to change that." 

When Bruce opens his mouth to fire back with a retort, Dick shushes him when he lays one finger over the grim slash of Bruce's thin-lipped mouth. "It doesn't make you feel any better either so quit trying to glare me into silence."

"And what if I don't want to cool down?" Bruce asks, frowning down at Dick. "Are you going to fight me?"

As impressive as it is when Bruce flexes while in his civvies, when he flexes in the suit the motion and all of those rippling muscles underneath the Kevlar compound makes him look damn near inhuman. Most criminals (and quite a few capes) would be pissing themselves at such a stark reminder of Bruce's strength. 

Dick isn't most people.

Dick merely shrugs and hooks his fingers in the gap between the two halves of his suit, drawing down the sleek costume so that Bruce can see the strap of his jock and the trail of dark hair leading down to it. Dick smiles sharply and then licks his lips slowly, making the slow slide of his tongue into a tease that Bruce has never been able to resist. Letting Bruce see exactly what he thinks of that suggestion. 

"I could take you," he muses, smirking when Bruce's eyes darken with hunger. "But I think I have a better plan."

"Really," Bruce says. He steps forward into Dick's space and reaches out to curl his fingers in against Dick's hip. When his fingers brush against Dick's own, he gives Dick a smile of his own and juts his chin out in a challenging way. "You think so?"

Trying not to fall apart under the weight of Bruce's attention, Dick grins up at Bruce and cocks his hip against the side of the table. "I know so," he says. "We can either do it in the shower or we can do it here. Your choice."

Baring his teeth in a pleased smile, Bruce leans in close until his mouth is a hairsbreadth away from Dick's chapped lips. "Take off your suit."

"Why don't you make me?"

** ii. sex as a distraction **

Even with the curtains pulled back from the windows, the master suite in Wayne Manor is dark and filled with lengthening shadows. The storm outside rages, sending trees to slap against the glass as rain splatters the balconies jutting out from underneath the doors. The scene outside the window matches the one inside the manor bedroom. Dark, brutal, and somehow fragile as though Dick will miss it all if he dares to blink. 

"You're thinking too much," Bruce says, keeping his tone light as he looms over Dick and blocks out the dim light from the bathroom door with his broad back. "I thought you wanted me to help you stop that." Lightning strikes outside and illuminates the faint smile on Bruce's mouth as he looks down at Dick's face. "Let me help you."

Dick sighs, stretches, and then says, "You've helped enough, Bruce," in a low voice. He reaches up and brushes his fingers over Bruce's smoothly shaven jaw before moving his fingers back to curl against the nape of Bruce's thick neck. "I don't think -- I don't think you can help much more than this." 

Bruce sighs lowly and drops down against Dick's body, pinning him to the mattress with the weight of his bigger frame. "I have to try," he says as he starts to move down Dick's body until his mouth hovers over Dick's collarbone at the start of the ugly purple bruises that cover a good third of his torso. Kissing Dick there makes Bruce hurt deep inside. He couldn't help Dick then. He can't help him now. The knowledge _hurts_. All Bruce can do is nuzzle at the edge of the bruise and take his time trying to ease the tension out of his lover's limbs. 

"I can't believe she's gone," Dick says into the windswept silence of the night. He doesn't say any more than that, can't say more when his throat feels tight and his body aches with every twitch of his muscles. Dick reaches for Bruce without looking, thrusting his hand out and then sighing with pent-up relief once Bruce grabs for his hand and holds his fingers tightly enough that they'll hurt later.

Bruce pulls away from Dick's body. "This isn't what you need, Dick," he says, voice low as he watches the emotions play across Dick's always expressive features in the fleeting moments of brightness caused by the lightning strikes outside. "You need -- To talk. To fight. Dick, you need --"

"I need a distraction," Dick says, cutting Bruce off before he can continue speaking. "I need to stop thinking, Bruce. This is the only way --" He tugs on Bruce's arm, pulling his lover up until the front of Bruce's chest presses against his bruises. The pain makes Dick hiss softly and his fingers flex against Bruce's forearm before he forces himself to settle and keep still against the sheets. "Can't we just screw around instead? You shouldn't have the monopoly on not talking about things."

Bruce peers down at Dick, eyes narrowed and filled with worry. "I don't want to hurt you, Dick."

Shrugging while lying down flat on his back isn't an easy task, but Dick manages. "You can't," he says softly. "I'm already hurt enough. You can't make it worse."

** iii. "missed you" sex **

Shaking fingers aren't the half of it.

Bruce is alive. He's here in Dick's bed in Wayne Tower and he's _real_. He's not Thomas Elliot with his stretching scars and seams stretched over his skin. He's not a clone or a robot or any one of those nameless, _awful_ things that came to try and fill Bruce's shoes in the two years that he was... away. Dick is looking at the real deal, the real Bruce, and for the first time in ages, Bruce is looking at him in return.

"I missed you so much," Dick says, voice coming out in a shaky whisper as he watches Bruce sit with his bare back pressing against the ornately carved mahogany headboard of his bed. He twists his fingers in the front of his t-shirt and uses his hold on the worn fabric in order to keep from reaching for Bruce and hauling him close. "Why? How? When were they going to tell me that you were _back_?"

Bruce pats the side of the bed with one big hand. "Sit down, Dick," he says in a voice that falls just shy of the commanding tone that still makes frequent appearances in Dick's dreams -- and some of his nightmares. "I want to touch you and I can't do that if you're standing by the door. It's been a long time --" 

There's something about the look on Bruce's face, something fragile and fleeting, that makes Dick take the longest strides that he can across the pale blue carpet between the bed and doorway. Before Bruce can return to staring at him as though he's never seen Dick before, Dick drops down onto the bed near the pile of sheets near the foot and then scrambles over the sheets until Bruce's lap is right _there_. Dick times his landing carefully and so Bruce doesn't even flinch for the additional weight of Dick's body splayed across his lap.

"Are you done?" Bruce asks, one bushy eyebrow arching upwards as Dick gets good and comfortable astride his lap. Despite the eyebrow lift, Bruce's hands migrate instantly to Dick's hips, thumbs resting comfortably in the hollows of that olive skin as though they exist for his touch alone. 

Dick smiles and leans in so that he can brush a quick kiss over Bruce's forehead. Once he settles back against Bruce's thighs, the smile slides off his face and an uncertain look quickly replaces it. "We have a lot to make up for," he says as Bruce continues to touch him above the elastic waistband of his sweatpants. When Bruce pushes a little further, hooking his fingers in the well-worn material of Dick's sweats until he can get his hand on skin instead of stretchy fabric, Dick sighs softly and lets his body sag against Bruce's own. "God, Bruce, you don't know how --" 

The words catch in Dick's throat. All Dick wants is to tell Bruce everything. How hard it's been without him. How frightening it is that he's good at being Batman. How Dick can't smell Bruce's cologne on any more of the shirts he has hidden from Alfred in one of the boxes in his room. There's so much that Dick wants to tell Bruce, so much that he wants to share with his lover to fill the gap of months and months of that obvious absence, that Dick can't choose one thing to say.

Not aloud at any rate.

Instead, Dick speaks with his body, rocking forward until there's hardly any space between him and Bruce. When he breathes in, he can feel Bruce's own breaths against his chest and it just goes to remind him of how long it's been since they had the chance to be properly intimate. In the days before Bruce's death, there simply wasn't any time for sex. And after --

"The League should have called me sooner," Dick says softly as Bruce's hands slide underneath his pants to curve over his ass and nudge at the crease between his cheeks when Dick shifts against him. "I know your scars. I know how you slouch when you're pretending not to be exhausted. I know _you_ , Bruce, and I could have saved the League a ton of time."

Bruce's lips lift with a smile. "I don't think they thought of that," Bruce suggests, tilting his head back slightly so that he can see more than Dick's chin. "They were so worried, Dick. I was worried." He pauses for a moment so that he can lean forward and kiss the underside of Dick's chin to take the edge off his hungers. "You could have -- I could have been a clone or a Bruce Wayne from some other universe. What if you had gone through all that trouble to end up with a shallow replacement?"

Dick shakes his head. "I've had a year or two of dealing with your old friend Tommy," he says easily. "Shallow replacements are nothing compared to that sleazeball and besides, the universe owes me."

Bruce smiles, slow and easy. His fingers flex against Dick's ass, digging into the muscle hard enough to make Dick really feel it before Bruce pulls back and returns to stroking Dick's skin with a light touch. "Is that right?"

"After what I went through, what both of us went through, I think a night of uninterrupted sex is the least the universe owes us." Dick cards his fingers through Bruce's close-cropped hair and then leans in so that he can press a quick kiss to his lover's mouth. When Dick pulls back, his face is red and flushed. "Do you remember the last time we did this?"

Bruce nods. "Like it was yesterday," he says. "You had longer hair then, but your smile..." Bruce trails off in favor of leaning in and kissing Dick until they're both breathless. "I'm never going to forget it."

Dick shifts atop Bruce's lap, fingers flexing against his lover's skin as he fights the urge to reach down and take himself in hand. "Same here," he says, "But tell me, Bruce, how do you feel about making new memories?"

** iv. playful sex **

Bruce takes one look at Dick's Bludhaven apartment and immediately, he wants to whisk Dick off to the nearest 5-star hotel (even though he knows for a fact that Bludhaven has no such thing). When he says as much to Dick, his lover laughs and starts pushing him in the direction of the bedroom in the back of the apartment.

"Don't be a baby, Bruce," Dick says with a cheerful lilt to his voice. "I'm not asking you to roll around in the mess on the couch or anything. My bed is bigger and more importantly, it's clean." When Bruce's gaze lingers on where Dick's breakfast dishes that are obviously from several days before sit on a rickety old card table, Dick rolls his eyes and keeps shoving. "Yes, Bruce. It's cleaner than my kitchen, but you try fighting crime on two fronts and running a household at the same time."

Instead of harping on Dick's housekeeping skills (or rather, the _lack_ of them), Bruce makes Dick a different offer as they pick their way through piles of discarded clothes and the occasional forensic science journal. "Alfred would be happy to come and clean the place. I can ask him for you if you want."

Dick snorts rudely. "I'm thinking Alfred would prefer to burn everything I own and then salt the flooring so no more new life can form on it."

"New life?" Bruce tries to keep his tone level, but he knows that he's failed the moment that Dick starts to snicker at him. 

"Don't worry about it, B," Dick says in as confident a tone as he can manage while maneuvering them around piles of dirty clothes and the occasional empty pizza box. "It was just a little bit of mold that gained sentience. Raven came by and handled it last weekend before it could do any real damage."

Bruce resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

"Dick," he says.

"Yeah, Bruce?"

"You're disgusting," Bruce mutters just loudly enough for Dick to hear over the creaking coming from the hinges of Dick's bedroom door. "We're cleaning your apartment. Tonight." When Dick only laughs softly from being Bruce's shoulder, the other man turns around and pins him with a sharp stare. "I _can_ always let Alfred know that you want him to handle it instead."

Dick sucks in a sharp breath of air. "You wouldn't," he hisses. "Not when I'm about to give you the ride of your life, big guy."

Bruce allows himself a victorious smile and watches as Dick's face turns colors for him. "I've taken the weekend off to spend time with you," Bruce points out. "Be glad that I'm not calling Alfred myself right now."

"Just get in the room," Dick mutters, eyeing Bruce as though he expects his lover to whip out his cell phone and run tattling to Alfred. "If you're going to make me wade through that mess while you're here, then I'm _definitely_ getting sex out of it." Dick pushes at Bruce's broad shoulders when his lover doesn't take the hint and _move_ , shoving Bruce into the room and kicking the door closed behind them.

Dick's bedroom is far neater than the rest of his apartment. It helps, that he rarely makes it in to sleep in his bed as opposed to the too-comfortable couch in his living room or the mattress in his hideout that has certainly seen better days. Dick usually goes several days without sleeping in his bed and with Bruce stalling and eyeing the mattress like he expects it to attack, Dick can't help being thankful for that.

Shucking his clothes takes Dick a matter of moments. 

Normally, he'd try to draw it out and make Bruce just as eager as he is, but it's been too long since their last encounter and Dick isn't _that_ patient. He's naked before Bruce even starts to undo the buttons of his deep purple shirt and from the way Bruce's fingers stutter on the button holes, he can tell that his lover likes the view. Dick climbs onto his bed and sits cross-legged on the clean red blue-striped sheets so that he can watch Bruce undress without getting in the way.

"The sheets are clean," Dick says once Bruce gets down to his underwear and starts to eye the mattress warily once more. "I washed them last week I think."

Bruce purses his lips in a frown. "You think?"

"Quit complaining," Dick drawls. "Do you really think I'd try to seduce you on dirty sheets?"

"In a word? Yes." However, Bruce gets on Dick's bed nonetheless, crawling across the mattress and managing to make the movement look aggressive instead of amusing. He curls the fingers of one hand in against Dick's ankle, applying light pressure as he coaxes Dick to shift around on the mattress until he's on his knees with his knees spread out across the sheets. 

Bruce leans in and licks a long, wet line over Dick's skin, over the firm curve of his ass where there are no scars as though the universe itself has been looking out for Dick. When Dick starts to try and turn around, Bruce stills him with the firm grip of his fingers to Dick's upper thighs. 

"Stay still," Bruce orders lowly, gaze fixed on the upturned curve of Dick's ass as though nothing else matters. He follows the path of his tongue with his fingers, stroking over firm muscle at a slow pace that makes Dick whine. "Let me look at you a little bit longer."

Dick makes a rude noise against the bed. "You can look all you want while you're screwing me," he bites out, spreading his knees even wider apart on the slick sheets and pushing back until his whole body's arched up in invitation. Dick's fingers fist in the sheets as Bruce's fingers slide down his crack to nudge first at his clenching hole and then where his sac swing with every slight twitch of his hips. "Oh come on!"

Bruce laughs against the back of one of Dick's lean legs. "You're so impatient," Bruce says as he watches Dick try and fail to keep still.

"Oh yeah," Dick says, twisting about so that he can cast a glare Bruce's way. "Like _you_ could do any better if you were in my position." Dick's toes curl when Bruce starts to rub his perineum with the tips of two fingers and he moans loudly, dropping down against the sheets as Bruce tries to drive him right out of his skin. "You're evil, Bruce. So god damn evil --"

Bruce pats Dick's ass and then pulls away. "Perhaps," he murmurs, voice barely audible above Dick's frustrated muttering as he kicks out against the bed. "But I don't hear you complaining."

"I didn't say I wanted you to stop!"

** v. quickie **

In less than fifteen minutes, Bruce is going to have to leave him.

In less than fifteen minutes, Bruce is going to have to pull away from Dick's body and go back to his boring conference downstairs. He'll fix his hair in the bathroom mirror and let Dick do up his tie until he looks like a respectable CEO-type should, but he'll have that almost-goofy "just fucked" smile on his face for hours.

Dick has mere minutes to make his mark on Bruce and he's going to do his best to make this quickie worth remembering. 

When Bruce's cock pushes inside of him with a forceful thrust of his powerful hips, Dick's back arches from the pleasure of that deep penetration. His head drops back against the mirror behind him with a dull-sounding thud that rattles the mirror in its casing. Hitting his head against the mirror should hurt, but Dick can't bring himself to care. Not with Bruce so damn _close_ and the fingers of one big hand pressing in against his thigh in order to haul his leg up and hold him open.

"Holy crap, Bruce," Dick blurts out, voice catching in his throat as his lover makes excellent use of his hard-won flexibility so that he can thrust in deeper. Dick gets his hands on Bruce's shoulders and digs the ragged edges of his nails into the fine fabric of his lover's white button up. Pleasure almost seems to short circuit Dick's very being and there are several moments where Dick loses himself in Bruce's presence (in the heat of his lover and in his weight and in the smell of Bruce's cologne). 

With Bruce buried in him to the point where his balls slap noisily against Dick's ass with every sharp snap of his hips, there's no way for Dick to ignore his lover's strength. No way for him to ignore that _he's_ the one that'll walk away from this with marks just because of how Bruce is. Dick moans Bruce's name and clenches his muscles as hard as he dares when Bruce plunges inside of him, trying to draw Bruce in deeper and--

It's a quickie alright.

Dick comes with a scream threatening to fly off his tongue, shuddering as ejaculate splatters his bare chest and threatens to smear all over the front of Bruce's shirt. 

His orgasm precedes Bruce's own by seconds, and Dick gets the honor of watching Bruce's muscles work as the older man screws into him almost roughly as he comes. The bellowing in his ear that Bruce can't help when he comes is usually hit or miss with Dick, but with his body gone limp in the force of Bruce's attention and his toes still curling against Bruce's clothes, Dick can't bring himself to tease Bruce as he usually does.

Bruce pulls out of Dick carefully and takes care of himself as fast as he can so that he can devote his full attention to Dick in the few minutes they have left. "I can't believe you walked with condoms to a conference on economics," Bruce says as he wipes of Dick's stomach with several damp paper towels. He cleans Dick quickly, but gently, stealing kisses as he works to return Dick so some semblance of respectability. "What would you have done if I didn't call for a break?"

"Called you out for an emergency," Dick says with a shrug of his shoulders. "You needed the break and besides, whoever said you can't mix business and pleasure, didn't know how you get when you're all... pent up." 

"You have a point," Bruce says, smiling slightly before leaning in and kissing Dick's mouth in a soft and tender kiss. "Will I see you tonight?"

Dick smiles. "Of course."


End file.
